


Just a little bit

by countermeasures



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Arsenal FC, Atlético Madrid, Blow Jobs, Euro 2016, France NT, M/M, french nt, smut just pure and utter smut, with a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countermeasures/pseuds/countermeasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France lost the finale of euro 2016 to Portugal. Antoine Griezmann and Olivier Giroud have their ways of dealing with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a little bit

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say. When the guys want sex, who am I to write something else. Sometimes smut is just what the doctor ordered.

Antoine Griezmann felt numb. Another lost game. Another lost finale. He'd been there before. He knew that if he caved right now, he wouldn't be able to stop the tears from coming. He couldn't do that. He had to stay strong. Stay strong for his teammates, for his family, for his fans. It was only a game, after all. There would be other games. One of these days he's going to win. That's the moment he will be able to let it all out. Not now. He looked over to the stands, waving to family members he spotted in the crowd. 

The medal ceremony was tough, but he went through the motions. He knew he should feel proud he won the golden boot, and that one day he would, but for now he didn't care. If only he'd made one more, it wasn't like he hadn’t had any chances. 

In the dressing room, all he saw was defeated faces. Most of the guys were staring straight ahead, waiting for the moment they could go home. Hide from the world for a while. As well as that was even possible. Some of them were still wearing the medal, but most had taken it off moments after receiving it. 

“How many moths do you think you ate?” Grizi tried to make Olivier laugh, who was sitting next to him. Antoine could see the dried up tears on his cheeks, and wanted nothing more than reach out and wipe them away with his thumb, but he stopped himself in time. Now wasn't the right moment. 

Olivier looked up at him, confused. “What are you-,” he started, until he realised what Griezmann was trying. “At least five! You?”

“I don't know, man. Three or four for sure!”

“Ha, I win!”

Antoine laughed, a proper laugh that surprised him a little bit so soon after the match. But who was he to deny Olivier. “I'm not sure eating more moths is how I want to win something. How did that even happen?”

“You don't know?” Olivier asked, and he shook his head. “They left the lights on in the stadium during the night.”

“Oh no,” he laughed. “You're kidding me!”

“Dead serious. And then moths did what moths do. Et voila, moth plague.”

Kingsley Coman, sitting on the other side of Giroud, started giggling. “No way.” 

Soon enough, the whole group was laughing, and Antoine was finally crying. Although these weren't the tears he expected. Tears of joy. He locked eyes with Olivier, and mouthed thank you to his fellow Frenchman. 

Olivier moved over slightly and brought his mouth close to Antoine’s ear. “You can thank me later,” he whispered, sitting back up with a grin on his lips and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Antoine studied his face for a moment. “You're serious.”

“I need distraction. And I can't think of a better distraction than you."

"You sure know how to woo a guy, Rimbaud."

Olivier grabbed his towel and got up. “You love it,” he said, walking to the showers. Antoine looked around and noticed that most of his teammates had already showered and were slowly getting dressed - he was the only one still in his kit. He quickly stripped down, grabbed his own towel, and went in the showers as well. 

“Is it later yet?” Antoine asked softly, walking up to Olivier.

“Are you crazy?” he whispered. “Not right now! What if someone walks in?”

“Everybody’s getting dressed already. It's just us,” Antoine explained, hanging his towel next to Giroud’s. He closed the gap between him and the striker, getting between him and the wall. He stood on his toes and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips. He put one hand on his chest. “Calm down, tough guy. I know what I'm doing.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“And did we ever get caught?” Antoine raised one eyebrow. He felt Olivier’s heartbeat calm beneath his palm. “Now, let me thank you by getting that heart rate up again for the right reasons.” He kissed him again, longer this time, and felt him relax into his kiss. He opened his mouth slightly, and Olivier started exploring. Antoine took it as a sign he could continue, and put his free hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him slightly closer so he didn't have to keep standing on his tiptoes. He slid his other hand down, stroking his abs, and wrapping his fingers around the base of Giroud’s half-hard cock, making him moan softly in his mouth. He started to slowly twist his hand, working to make that erection stronger. He stroked Olivier’s balls with his thumb, and softly bit his lip, resulting in a strong hiss. He pulled his head back. “You need me to stop?”

“Don't you dare,” he replied, placing his hands on the small of Antoine’s back, and starting licking his neck. Antoine leaned into him for a moment, relaxing his hand in the meantime. Olivier softly bucked forwards, making it clear what he needed. Antoine gladly continued what he started, working his hand down over his cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip, slicking him up with the precum already dripping out. He started kissing his chest at the same time, working his way down. He dropped to his knees, dipping his tongue into Olivier’s belly button, before taking his dick in his mouth. He started moving his head up and down, swirling his tongue slowly. Olivier grabbed his hair with one hand, and put his other on the wall for support. 

“Oli! Anto! Get out of there, before I come and get you. I don't care if you're still all shampooed up. Bus leaves in five. Allez, allez, vite, vite!” 

Antoine looked up, but didn't stop what he was doing. Not until he saw the fear in Olivier’s eyes. He quickly let him slip out of his mouth and got up. “Calm down. It's okay. We'll just… continue this in a more private place.”

“You bastard, you can't leave me like this,” Olivier muttered at him. 

“Sorry, babe, I’d gladly help you come right now, but I'll need a bit longer than five minutes to get you presentable again.” He winked at him. “Trust me, I like this as much as you do.” He took Olivier’s hand and placed it on his own dick to show him how turned on he was. He leaned backwards to get the shower going, hoping a good burst of cold water would help them get a bit more decent. 

They quickly grabbed their towels, and got dressed. They always wore their shorts low, this time more necessary than normal to keep their erections in check. They stuffed their stuff in their bags and walked as fast as they could to the bus, gave them to the driver to be put into the storage compartment, and climbed in, ignoring the jokes and banter from the rest of the team about their vanity. The bus drove off before they even had the chance to sit down, Olivier crashing into Antoine in the aisle. He had to bite his lip to keep a moan from escaping. This was going to be a long ride. He pushed Griezmann into his seat, and sat down next to him. 

“Please behave,” he begged. 

“Me?” Antoine put on his best innocent expression. “I always do.” He put his hand on Olivier’s knee, slowly sliding it up towards his groin.

Olivier grabbed his hand and put it back in his lap. “Stop it. Not helping.”

“Okay, fine,” he caved. “You're so boring,” he whispered. “Nobody will notice.”

Olivier let out a deep sigh, but couldn't suppress a laugh. “You're hopeless.” He spent the whole ride putting Antoine’s hand back on his own lap until he gave up and let it rest on his groin. He kept biting his lip to keep any sound from escaping, silently pleading Grizi to go easy on him. Antoine was clearly testing how far he could go, even cupping his cock over the fabric of his shorts once, but let go immediately when he saw how red Giroud was turning. It was fun to tease, but he wanted it to stay foreplay, not make him come on the bus. Especially not right after losing that finale. Not a good idea. 

Giroud was one of the first out of the bus when they arrived at their hotel. Antoine gave him some time, adjusting his own shorts, letting the rest off the bus first before getting out as well. He hugged some people, careful not to let them feel his erection, wished everybody goodnight, and went up to his room. He saw Olivier sit next to his door, waiting for him. 

“Took you long enough,” he said, getting up. He hovered behind him while he tried opening the door. 

“Oli, please, getting the key in is pretty hard when you're poking my back like that,” he laughed, unwittingly amused by his own choice of words. Olivier took a step back, giving him a moment. “Why were you waiting here anyway, I gave you a key.”

“There were people walking around. Didn't feel right that they knew I've got a key to your room.”

“And sitting in the hallway, waiting for me, that's okay?”

Olivier stepped inside and pulled him along on the collar of his shirt. “Please stop talking and finish what you started.”

Antoine quickly closed the door behind him and stripped off Olivier’s shirt. “With pleasure, Olivier. With pleasure.” He pulled on the string of his shorts and slipped his hand under the waistband to drop them to the floor. Olivier stepped out of them and just stood there, buck naked, still very much aroused. 

“You're overdressed,” he smiled, helping Antoine lose his shirt and shorts as well. 

“Better?”

“Oh yes.”

Antoine pinned him to the wall, and dropped to his knees. “Where was I,” he mumbled. “Oh, right.” And he took Olivier’s cock in his mouth again, carrying on with what he was doing before their interruption. Olivier let his head rest against the wall, grabbing Antoine’s hair with both hands.

“Fuck, yes,” he moaned, loudly now that they were alone. He bucked his hips forward, but Antoine placed both hands on his hips to steady him, not letting him move while he was bobbing his head back and forth. He wanted to make this last as long as he could. He was moving as slow as possible, lingering at the tip, sucking a bit harder there, smiling as he heard the curses coming from Olivier. He let his cock slip out of his mouth and looked up. “I love it when you let go,” he said. 

“Please,” he begged. “Just let me come, you're killing me.”

“Not yet.” Antoine stood up again and kissed him hard. Olivier could taste himself on his lips, and licked them clean, pushing softly, encouraging Antoine to open his mouth to let him in. He had his hands on his back, pulling him so close that their erections brushed against each other. He dropped one hand, but Griezmann took it in his own before he could do anything. 

“No.”

“But -,” he started. 

“I'm thanking you now, remember?”

“Please?” Olivier gave him another long kiss, and he felt Antoine’s cock twitch. He placed Olivier’s hand on the base of his dick, and took the striker’s in his own hand again. They started stroking in time with the movement of their tongues, both moaning loudly. The moment Olivier felt he couldn't hold back anymore, Antoine stopped his movement once again. He looked in his eyes, and took Olivier’s hand off his own dick again. He put his fingers in his mouth and licked the precum off. Next, he went to his knees once more, and took Olivier in his mouth, not losing eye contact. He started moving up and down again, letting him fuck his mouth at the same time. It only took three hard thrusts before Olivier let go and came, emptying himself in Antoine's mouth, who gladly swallowed every last drop, licking him clean after he was spent, before letting his dick slip out of his mouth. 

He started stroking himself, still on his knees. Olivier dropped down as well and took over. Antoine wanted to protest, but stopped when he saw the look in Olivier’s eyes and gave into the touch. He dropped his head in his neck, enjoying this moment. Olivier gently pulled his head back up with his other hand, pulling him in for another kiss. He started stroking harder and faster, softly squeezing each time he reached the base again, and felt how close he was. He changed his pace, twisting his hand slightly, helping Antoine over the edge. He buried his face in Olivier’s shoulder, biting his collar bone to hold back a scream when he came. Olivier kept stroking him until he relaxed again, and then let go to lick the come off his fingers. He pulled him off his shoulder by his hair, and kissed him again, letting him taste himself. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I needed this.”

Antoine smiled. “We both did.” Shifting mostly upright, they sat down next to each other, backs against the wall. Olivier put his arm around his shoulder and Antoine snuggled up into him. “Let's just have tonight for us. Deal with everything tomorrow.”

Giroud kissed his hair. “Deal.” He put his head on Antoine’s, enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment. He was just contemplating the best way of getting his partner off the floor when the phone rang. Antoine jumped up, nearly head-butting Olivier in the process, and quickly rushed to pick it up. 

“Allô?” Griezmann answered, confused who could be calling him on the hotel phone. Everybody he knew would just call his cell if they needed him. 

“Who is it?” Olivier asked, getting up off the floor as well. Antoine shushed him with his hands, struggling to focus, head still a bit foggy. It was reception, and he had to ask the lady to repeat it. Apparently the walls of the hotel room weren't as soundproof as he thought they would be, and someone had complained about the noise. He tried to come up with a decent excuse, but Olivier was standing behind him now, kissing his neck, and his mind went blank. He had to cover his mouth to keep a moan from escaping when Olivier softly scraped his teeth over his skin.

“Sorry, didn't realise how loud I had the TV on, I will turn it down,” he quickly said and hung up. Olivier turned him around the moment he let go of the phone, pushed him on the bed, and climbed on top of him, sloppy kisses everywhere. 

“What was the problem?” 

“Noise complaints.”

“No way,” Olivier sat up, feeling slightly offended. “What are these walls made of, cardboard?”

“We’ll show them. We can be quiet.” 

“Already? We just…” Olivier pointed to the wall. 

“Catching your breath is overrated. We're wasting precious time here, mon trésor. Besides, you put me on this bed.” He stroked his cheek with his thumb. 

Olivier sighed and leaned into the touch, kissing his wrist. Antoine moved on to rubbing his back, calming him down and turning him on at the same time. Their lips were almost touching, but not quite. Olivier liked it like that, and he was pulling back each time Antoine was reaching for his lips. He shook his head. Not yet. Now it was his turn to play. He moved slowly, seeing him react to his breath on his skin, the goosebumps of anticipation, the soft shiver when he hovered over his nipple, still not touching. The moans he heard made him want to kiss Antoine all over. 

“Please, touch me,” he begged Olivier. He arched his back, trying to get closer. 

“Just trust me,” was all he said, moving away. He got up and walked to his bag, getting a small bottle with oil from one of the compartments. “Do you?”

Antoine nodded, uncertain he could form words. He took a deep breath and relaxed into the mattress. After a few more agonising moments of Olivier hovering his hands above his chest, Antoine let out a loud curse when he finally felt them on his skin. “You're going to making me come without touching my dick,” he muttered. 

“Please don't. I need you to come inside me.” He poured some oil on Antoine’s hands, and finally kissed him again. This wasn't the first time for them, but every time Olivier asked to bottom it still took Antoine’s breath away and made his heart skip a beat. He didn't know what he did to deserve someone who trusted him so much, who loved him so dearly. He kissed him back, hard, and carefully started working Olivier open with his slicked-up fingers. 

\--

It had been two weeks since the finale. Antoine had gone on holiday with his friends, talked about everything, cried about everything, dreamt about how everything would've been different had he made that header, and had started to give it its place. He'd just would have to fight even harder the next game, and the next, and one day he'd win. 

It had also been two weeks since he had last been alone with Olivier. They'd been talking on the phone every day since their last night, enjoyed the occasional FaceTime in private, but that wasn't enough to stop missing his lover. Boyfriend? He wasn't sure how to refer to him. It didn't feel like a conversation to have over the phone, but they had been too busy with each other in the spare moments they had had to themselves during the summer. 

He was so lost in thought that he didn't even hear his phone ring until his sister threw it at him. 

“You don't want to miss this call, Anto,” she winked. He quickly checked the caller ID. Oli. He looked up at her, uncertainty written all over his face. 

“You knew?”

“Of course I did. You can't stop smiling when you talk about him. Answer it before it stops ringing.” She kissed his forehead. “And please find a private room in the house. You don't want to scare our neighbours. You tend to get loud when you're having sex.”

“Oli, hang on,” he quickly answered, and put his hand on the speaker. “I've got no idea what you're talking about,” he joked when he got up. He gave her a peck on the cheek and walked inside. 

“Hi.”

“Bonjour, Anto. Ça va?” 

Antoine smiled hearing Olivier’s voice. Damn, his sister was right. As usual. “Bit lonely without you.”

“Are you going soft on me? We talked yesterday.” 

Antoine’s body responded to him, and he wasn't exactly soft anymore. So that's what he told him. 

“You know that's not all we did. But it's different when I'm touching myself. I need you.”

“Same here, can't wait until the next time I can get my hands on you,” Olivier mumbled softly. 

“Oli? Where are you? You sound… Like you're hiding your words.”

He heard Olivier taking a deep breath before answering. “I'm not exactly alone. At the airport right now. On my way home.”

“Ah, that explains that. Well then,” he chuckled. 

“No. Please. Whatever you're thinking, stop that.” 

“Okay, okay. How long until your flight? How's the weather?”

“Seriously, Anto? The weather? That's what you revert to? Hang on,” Olivier laughed. Grizi heard some rustling on the line before he heard Olivier again. “My hands, your body, September can't be here soon enough.”

“What are you doing? Did you move? You're giving mixed signals here, mon petit.” Antoine pictured him trying to find a quiet place at a busy airport, so they could have some privacy. 

“I moved. Shut up. Hearing you makes me horny, even when you talk weather. Please, I want you so bad, talk to me.”

“Where are you now?” 

“One of those massage chairs in a booth.” Olivier started laughing. “This is what I've come to. Getting ready to jerk off listening to my boyfriend on the phone in a booth at the airport.”

Antoine stayed quiet for a moment. Boyfriend. Felt right. More than right.

“Ant? You're still there?” Olivier asked. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. It's… Nothing.”

“Come on, what did I say?”

Antoine took a deep breath. “Boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Olivier’s voice sounded small. 

“No, no, I like it.” Antoine shook his head, clearing it. “It feels right. Doesn't it?”

He heard Olivier huff a small laugh; he sounded relieved. “I thought you already knew I'm all yours. I'm in if you are.”

“Oh god yes,” Antoine replied. “Absolutely!”

“Good. Now, you were saying something about your hands on my cock?”

“Those words are all yours, love,” he snickered. “I was thinking something more like our last time.”

“Me pinching your cute behind while you were talking to the president?”

Antoine blushed at the memory. “I will get you back for that, you know.”

“Oh please, I can't even count the times on one hand anymore that you dragged me into situations we were just asking to be caught.”

“You loved every single moment.”

“God help me, I did.”

“No, I was referring to the night before. You lying on your stomach, me prepping you with my fingers. Remember?” He stopped talking, and heard a soft moan on the other side of the line. “You kept telling me to hurry up, that you wanted me inside of you. But you can't hurry foreplay, mon trésor, the last thing I ever want is to hurt you.”

“Oh yes, tell me more,” Olivier breathed.

“How are you doing this, actually?” Antoine stopped recalling his memory. “One hand on the phone, the other in your pants?”

“Anto, please.”

“Sorry, I just want a complete picture.”

“I've got a headset, if you must know,” Olivier laughed. “Both hands free. Well, not anymore but you know what I mean.”

Antoine snorted. “You really came prepared!”

“I did. Now, is your picture complete? Can we carry on? I do have a plane to catch and I don't want to explain being late because you took so long.”

“It is. Now, where was I?”

“Antoine!”

“Okay, okay, fingers preparing you for my cock. Yes. First slicking up the rim with the oil, rubbing you with my thumb.” He heard Olivier’s breath get heavy. “Then I slowly slid my thumb into your hole, and back out. In, and out.”

“Yes,” Olivier panted softly. “I can feel you.”

Antoine put his phone on the loudspeaker and quickly wiggled out of his shorts, taking his erection in his own hand. He started stroking himself in rhythm with Olivier’s laboured breathing. “You were ready for a second finger so fast, Olivier, you're so needy.”

“You've got that effect on me, mon cher.” 

Antoine moaned, lingering his thumb on his slit, letting his precum collect in the palm of his hand, before carrying on with his movement. 

“Ant?”

“You're not the only one affected by this, you know,” he moaned. 

“Glad to know,” Olivier said. “Oh fuck, this isn't working. Hold on.”

“Oh, I am,” Antoine laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Dropping my shorts, what do you think I'm doing.”

Antoine let out a snort. “You're amazing.”

“Okay, this is much better.”

“Talk to me.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, your turn.”

“But.. “Olivier protested. “Okay, fine. You were fucking me with your fingers,” he whispered. “And you've got no idea how good it felt, but it wasn't what I needed.”

Antoine let himself fall backwards on his bed, bouncing back up slightly, listening to Olivier’s low voice. “What did you need?” he asked hoarsely. 

“You. I needed you. Inside,” Olivier paused, moaning in his microphone at the thought. “Your cock inside me. Fucking me.”

“I needed it just as much. You've got no idea how good you feel when you clinch. I'm so hot just thinking about it.”

“Oh. Yes. I can't st-” he stuttered. 

Antoine sped up his stroking, head back in pleasure. “Come for me, please. Don't stop talking.”

“I'm so close. It's like we're there again. You rolling the condom on, and lining yourself up. Your cock in me, just the tip at first.” His voice faltered for a moment. 

“You bucking up, wanting me to go deeper,” Antoine took over the memory. “It was what I needed to thrust, I -” 

The came close after each other. Olivier had to bite his lip to keep from screaming, which was the last push Antoine needed to let go. He moaned loudly, unable to care who could hear him. They were both panting, working their way through their orgasm. 

“I miss you,” Antoine started when he got his breath back. “Fuck, maybe I should just come to London. I don't have to be back for a while.”

“Please. This sucks,” Olivier agreed. “I mean, it's nice, but.. Oh shit. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” 

“I've got to go. Plane to catch. Need to clean myself up a bit, get some water. Thank you.”

Antoine smiled at the thought of Olivier, all spent in a massage chair, needing a moment before he felt comfortable enough again to show his face in public, because of him. He had that effect on him. On the man who everybody described as tough, as an extrovert. He knew better. It's what attracted him to Olivier. Soft-spoken, almost shy but not quite. He was an enigma. 

After a long shower, getting himself off once more just from that mental image of Olivier orgasming at the airport because of him, Antoine was relaxing at the side of the pool, and couldn't get the goofy grin off his face. His sister walked by him and shook her head, smiling. 

“He makes you happy,” was all she said. Antoine sighed contently. He did. 

Antoine was looking at flights to London. He had been all evening. Surely it shouldn't be difficult to find one on short notice, but he couldn't focus. He kept thinking about why he was looking at them, and daydreaming about everything he'd do when he got his hands on Olivier again. About just being in the same room again. The doorbell startled him, and he was listening for footsteps on their way to the door until he remembered he was home alone. He dropped his laptop on the sofa and got up, adjusting his shorts walking to the door, not bothering to check who it was. He opened the door and saw Olivier standing there. He pinched himself, surely he was dreaming. 

“Honey, I'm home.”


End file.
